Death Eater
by BajaB
Summary: Waiting for my turn to approach where the Dark Lord sat in his high backed, regal chair, I briefly wondered how different my life could have been if the Sorting Hat had got it right. Post HBP, AU, No DH.


As I stand in line, waiting for my turn to approach where the Dark Lord sits in his high backed, regal chair, I briefly wonder how different my life could have been if the Sorting Hat had gotten it right.

If I was a Slytherin, I am sure my life would have been easier. Instead of fighting this destiny, would I have embraced it? Would I have seen harsh reality with clear eyes, or would my idealistic notions still plague me?

My 'family' inside of Hogwarts turned against me again and again. If I were with my true house, would I have had support against Gryffindor's constant ridicule and lack of respect?

Could house Slytherin have helped, not hindered, my rise, and made all of this happen sooner and with less pain?

At that thought, my eyes automatically sought out the person who most represented Slytherin to me. Severus Snape stood in Voldemort's inner circle. I recognised him even though he was cloaked and wearing the traditional Death Eater mask. As the initiates presented themselves to the Dark Lord, Snape watched, barely concealing his contempt behind the faux skull-face.

There is no doubt he objects to my appointment. All through my school life, I was one of the unlucky ones whom he targeted with his aggression. His hatred of my family was been unfairly transferred to me, when I done nothing to warrant it.  
Now the feeling was mutual, and, once I firmly consolidated my position in the regime, I would make sure to take time out to deal with him. The murderer of Dumbledore would pay for his crimes against me.

Strange that I should think of Dumbledore at this moment.

His lies and treachery drove me to this extreme. Throughout my life, I was unknowingly a pawn in his games, we all were. I no longer believed that he really cared for any of us; his final cowardly act of betrayal woke me from that dream. How dare he choose to die when so many people believed in him.

He abandoned us when we needed him most, when I needed him most.

With everything that was happening, instead of telling us all what he had known all along, he chose to play his infantile games of mystery and intrigue, and once again mislead so many from the truth. No wonder the Ministry of Magic had chosen not to believe him when he started stirring up rumors of Voldemort's return.

Speaking of the Ministry, Dolores Umbridge was here too. I made out her squat figure in the back rows of the assembled crowd. My hostile reaction to her approach after Dumbledore's death was understandable. It was not until she presented me with irrefutable evidence of Dumbledore's duplicity that I started to seriously listen.

Of all the people to have converted me to Voldemort's cause, I would never have chosen that frog, but the Dark Lord knew my soul better than anybody, and he chose his emissary wisely.

I knew my previous beliefs were wrong. I listened to people so entrenched in the old order that they blinded themselves to any possibility of something better than what they currently had. Their belief in their own righteousness and their loyalty to the current archaic, ludicrous system made them my enemy.

Time and time again I was ignored, passed over or left out, for no reason other than my youth. My spirit and enthusiasm were almost been crushed by the wizarding world's indifference to my desires.

It is only now that I see my problem was that I was on the wrong side to begin with.

While the rest of the Ministry, and that idiot Scrimgeour in particular, were trying to use me to get their poster boy to impress the 'man in the street', and the Order of the Phoenix were trying to use me to get information about the Ministry, Umbridge offered me everything and asked for nothing in return.

She gave all the information I asked for, and her explanation of the war put things in a very different light. She exposed the lies and hypocrisy of the people in power and explained how they twisted the truth to make it appear everything about the Death Eaters was the work of evil incarnate.

I now know the real reason Voldemort appears unstoppable is that truly informed people were flocking to his banner, and not just people. 'Monsters', suppressed and controlled for eons, are rising to cast off the chains of oppression the Ministry shackled them with. I knew these creatures still need to be 'controlled', but no more than Muggles need to be - to stop them from destroying the world.

She showed me how we could make a better place, how the war was a knee jerk reaction by established wizards to a new order, and how I could hold a valued part in that new order, with my voice and my views having influence that I only ever dreamt of. I would be one of the select few whose birthright is to rule, and nobody would ever ignore me or make fun of me again.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters want to take control away from the Ministry and destroy the current wizarding world-order; that is true, but only because the Ministry is so pathetic. They are children, children playing pretend games. The whole Ministry is a ridiculous, pale copy of the Muggle system.

As if the Muggles have anything we need.

Most of the wizarding world's time and energy is spend hiding from the very people who need us the most; Muggles. We can end their wars, feed their masses, and lead them to a new era of prosperity like nothing they have ever had in their history.

We don't need politicians and Ministries; we need strong leaders with authority to do what was required, but whenever one of us starts to walk that righteous path, he is dragged down by lies and fear, and ultimately is treated like a ravenous beast that needs to be put down. It has happened to two of the greatest wizards who ever lived, Salazar Slytherin, and Tom Riddle.

Maybe that is why Dumbledore chose to die. Maybe he saw that ours was the right way and he had been wrong for the better part of his life.

I move closer to the head of the line.

As each initiate receives his Dark Mark, he backs away from the Dark Lord and joins the crowd surrounding us. I did not count how many of us there were today for our 'graduation'.

More started the training, but a few did not survive.

Like much of the misinformation put out by the Ministry and it's lackey's, the 'disappearances' reported in the paper were not in fact murders. Most of them were people joining the cause, but failing the brutal training. Voldemort does not accept anybody who did not meet his high standards; This is not going to become another dumping ground like the current Ministry, where incompetents like Fudge could blunder to the top by 'keeping people happy'. The tests and training made sure only the toughest and most able will hold positions of power in the new order.

If you choose to try to join, you know what you are risking.

I do not know any of the others personally; I had not wanted to. To me they are mere pawns, where as I am going to be a real mover and shaker. I no longer feel anything but contempt for my former associates. My mother and father would have been ashamed of me, if they could see me, but I am now ashamed of them, so it all balances out.

I hoped Ron would see the truth as I do, but he chose a different way, a way I cannot support. If only he saw what I have seen, done what I have done. Of them all, he was the one I felt most likely to understand my point of view.

The rest of the Weasley family is a total loss. Even Ginny, who I had at one time been closest to, was blind to the ugly truth. She did not want to see that we had been wrong, that we had been lied to. She was just like the others. Our last meeting did not go well, and I doubt there will be any more.

The scar on my forehead burns.

All initiates wear scars like mine now, put there when training first started. It was very clever of the Dark Lord to turn what was once a symbol of his defeat, into a representation of his rebirth. He told me that once the Dark Mark was burned onto my arm, the scar would disappear . I didn't care about that either.

I still hate him.

He has sacrificed too much to put wizards into their rightful place. He stared too long into the abyss, and it has become a part of him. Instead of subverting and controlling, he chooses to kill and destroy. The short-term goal of his victory blinds him to the larger vision of a world in control of wizards.

Once we have total control, he will have to go.

His poison will drag us down and turn us from our sacred goal. We will become bickering jesters in his mad court, a thousand times worse than the current play-acting government.

I do not know what final part I will play in his demise, but I am sure it will be a large one.

I know other Death Eaters feel the same way I do, but we all keep it hidden in the deep recesses of our minds where Voldemort cannot see. Only some of the 'originals' have loyalty for Voldemort alone; Death Eaters like Snape. The rest of us are loyal to the grand vision.

Snape again. Funny how my eyes keep seeking him out.

I notice another person standing behind Snape, Draco Malfoy. I can imagine how badly he is taking my presence here. His father is more accommodating, but only because he knows my worth. Draco still holds grudges against me, even though the Dark Lord has proven the value of my blood. Lucius grudgingly accepts that value, though I am sure he still considers his own the superior, but Draco refuses to believe.

It doesn't matter. Draco will never be anything more than a distraction to me. He is beneath my contempt and does not stand in the way of my ambition. I let him know this by smiling at him while looking into his eyes.

He doesn't react, or at least I can't see any outward sign of his reaction, but I am sure it burns him to see me here. I do not care.

Now I am kneeling in front of the Dark Lord. He is wearing his evil little smile as he raises his wand and says the incantation. Then he brings his wand down and burns the symbol into my forearm.

It hurts.

The pain is worse than anything I have ever felt, but I don't cry out as others before me did. I keep my back straight and my head up as, in my mind, I repeat a small cantrip over and over again. I taught myself this; it distracts me from the pain.

The words I am using are new, but the trick is an old one:

_My name is Percy Weasley, and I am a Death Eater. _

**Finite Incantatem.**


End file.
